


and when they walk in, i am loved.

by atrocities_galore



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Piercings, polyamorous, pretty boy george, the boys being softies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrocities_galore/pseuds/atrocities_galore
Summary: taking a day off, nick realizes how much he loves the two of his boys.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 181





	and when they walk in, i am loved.

**Author's Note:**

> you hear sumn?

"george?"

"yes nick?"

"did you just fucking shave my entire eyebrow off?"

"if i did would you be mad?"

"extremely."

"then no."

nick swears that he's never felt more fear in his life than when he looked in the mirror after that conversation.

thankfully, his brow is still there, now just hosting a small slit near the end that, surprisingly, didn't look as bad as he thought. he released a breath similar to ice, patting his chest once or twice to make sure his heart resumed beating, and then turned his body to face the stupid brunet that was george.

he was smiling. the idiot was smiling after almost sending nick into cardiac arrest.

"i'm going to end you, i swear." he grumbles, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. it wasn't the everyday occasion that he let his boyfriend give him a whole eyebrow slit and practical makeover, but there was nothing better to do this summer, so why not fuck up his appearance that he'd have to endure for another good few months.

if it made george happy, though. "you love me, yeah?" too happy, he promises. nick rolls his eyes and lets the brit touch up what he cut away at, continuously checking to make sure he doesn't look like an idiot the entire time.

"yeah." they're both stupid.

and while nick is very nervous of the razor currently controlling the remnants of his normal eyebrow, he still finds his gaze wandering back over to rolled eyes, clenched jaw and fluttery smile that threatens to break the dam of clay's frustrated composure. he can't remember exactly what the blond is upset about specifically, but he always looks so beautiful and even when he's pouty and very similar to george, he's perfect.

he's so in love, it's unfathomable. the feeling to feel so strongly about not just one, but two boys, it was unearthly.

nick doesn't mean like some the notebook type thing, but something that didn't have a word. it's an out of body experience, as if he was able to handcraft the perfect soulmates and have them right by his side at an instant. where george was persistent, like the simple breeze of wind pushing past flowy house curtains that reminded you of home, clay is slow and honey-like; taking his time with anything he does, proving and promising that he wasn't going to go beyond or past you. they're two sides of the same coin, and nick was a rich fucking man when it came to them.

he wonders if clay had ever written about them like that in his free time. maybe he showed george, who did his quiet little giggle and showered him in praise and peppered kisses before getting the same treatment in return. it's such a dream.

"are you guys done prettying up nick over there, or am i gonna be alone for another half-hour?"

insufferable. it's charismatic how annoyed clay is.

pressing a finger to his lips, as if he was fauxly in thought, the brit of the two hummed before sparing a sneaky glance over to the taller on the couch. "if you had joined and aided us in our damn slitting of his poor eyebrow, then we would have been done faster." george sighs, like the energy had been taken out of him just responding.

clay sees this, obviously, grinning his intolerable grin with pearl-like teeth glimmering even from across the room. he's magnificent. "but that's boring, i can watch you from all the way over here, and that's pretty nice."

little shit.

nick snickers from his seat, not minding his eyes locking onto boyfriend one. the brunet was astonishing, truly a sight to behold when he wasn't doing stupid things.

then again, that's why he was dating the two of them. he flickered between the two boys, trying to think of something that would calm the both down a little bit more without all of them playfully fighting. nick didn't think that clay was alright with slitting his eyebrow or dying his hair some incredulous color, but maybe there was something simple they could do. he leaned up to george and whispered a delicate, quiet question in his ear, watching as he moved back and grinned angelically at the texan. that damn smile, it was going to be the death of him.

there he went, the older of the three making his way into one of the bedrooms on light feet and lighter hardwood. the brit is too similar to a cat, too graceful.

felines and such aside, nick raised himself off of where he was seated and shot a knowing, mischief filled look over towards the still blond. he obviously knew that something was in the works, brows creased and lips slightly open as he moved to speak before his lover could make his way over. as usual, too slow, as the brunet sprawled himself out over the space of clay's lap, stretching out his limbs and greeting the spectral and astral realms beneath his eyelids as he closed them.

"you're so annoying, god." clay murmurs, jutting his leg up slightly to try and prove his point. nick just leans up and pecks his cheek gently, resting back down to the secure place in his boyfriend's almost-holding arms.

begrudgingly, the brunet can feel the taller interlace their hands together; hot against cold, and he doesn't remember imagining the quirk of the other's pretty lips upwards, so he will do the same and move his head into clay's chest where he knows that a place for him in his heart is open, waiting.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

shared words, shared love, they know they're meant for one another and their other counterpart, who's sauntering in as if he belonged there all this time; he did.

a grasp is small, green and black liquid held in two small containers, ready to jump out and spill their creativity among someone now today. that someone was gently drumming his fingertips across nick's waist, a tune and specialty that only he knew, only they could decode it down to it's taps and rhythm and main meaning.

george takes his place in front of them, having pulled and tugged a small chair from it's normal stature and over to the trio of idiots. a quizzical look is thrown at the polish meant for his bitten nails on the hands of a writer, the same who is gazing with such hesitancy and weariness. "you'll be fine, stupid, now surrender your hands." the brit is commanding, eyes hopeful with a slight twinge that tells clay he'll be fine, that he just has to trust in his loved and his abilities.

so he continues, releasing and revealing his turned down palms over to the other, snickering whenever the boy in his lap makes himself comfortable to where he can better view and appreciate clay's face. porcelain soon meets latte skin, touch gentle and nurturing as the cool sensation of polish makes it's presence known on the taller's nails.

the bright lime color looks oddly conforming to the blond's hands, and he takes comfort in knowing that at least he won't look dumb or made a fool of.

slowly but surely, each nail is carefully done and coated over, nick taking the black and blotting little crooked smiley faces on each one. they almost smudge and mess up, but they're perfect to the brunet who places them. it fits their relationship, fits clay and his online and offline persona and everything about him. it's good, pure.

there's small talk, of course.

talk of what latest video game clay should play, of what dark shade would look good on nick's hair, of how happy they both are for george's channel growth and such. it's always about each other, never singled out.

and as each coat is lied on, as nick drifts into a peaceful rest after his miniscule job is done, they can feel it.

it isn't exactly love, because it is so much stronger and more than that, but it's some type of warmth. one that begins deep in the pits and dark blue veins of their heart, but grow out and poisons their blood, red and true, sickeningly sweet with affection and a feeling that's indescribable. it's burning their organs in the best way possible, leaving the bottoms and beginnings charred with their arteries clogged at the sight of each other. the sensation digs into their skin, lays their mark and territory across insult riddled words and sappy love notes, drowns the ink and tears into bleeding care and growth. it's what stings their eyes with pure joy and what makes every single moment with one another feel burnt, feel heated with kept promises and untouched, untapped weaving and gains.

bottled up and burst out into the carpet, staining with emotions and red of spoken feelings and untold verses, george caps the last bottle of polish and cup's clay's cheeks in his quivering palms.

he kisses clay dry. he yearns for all of the burnt and simmered down pieces of his acquitted actions to be brought to a boiled rumble, but the blond is reaching newfound hands up to the shorter's jaw; pressed thumbs and knowing breaths exchanged between wanting, hopeful lips, it seems like it just grows stronger.

they pull apart, and if the whole world crashed down outside of those three, if god decided that today was the day everything would freeze over and have it's final gasp, they would be okay.

"you've got something on your face, gee."

special nickname out in the air and hanging low in george's stomach, nick reaches up with worn metacarpals and brushes away the faint reminders of neon paint, where clay's hands once belonged and kept home on for so long.

they make sure to plummet down and pepper the sleepy boy's face in kisses, to hold him tightly and keep each other in their traps of care.

at the end of their day, all three of the boys have marks and splots of green, dyed coats on their cheeks, lips and hands. it's what connects them all to each other, what brings them to look at one another and just know that they are strong and going.

at the end of the day, they're together and loved and a little strange, but the smiley faces on clay's nails remind them that strangeness is alright, just this once.


End file.
